The Reluctant Prince
by ZazuWoods
Summary: Jon Snow rescues the wrong princess. In the end, he's not sure who rescued who.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. The ideas bounced around in my skull, and wanted out. It may not be exactly canon, but just go with it. The characters are not mine. They are borrowed, somewhat understood, and played with for a little bit. If they don't quite fit the way you see them, don't sweat it. That's the beauty of imagination.

+Note+ Just pretend that Jon Snow returns to the Night's Watch after being stabbed, and is granted some sort of immunity to leave. He has joined a King's Guard, and is sent off to infiltrate bases and rescue fair and not so fair maidens. He is joined at this post by Sam, Gilly, and a few other familiar faces. This follows none of the books, so if that bothers you, head out now.

The Reluctant Prince

He doesn't mean to save her.

He just wants to be done with this war. He is over the battle, over the fighting, over the hurt and raw feeling in his stomach that reminds him of the past. He is tired and weary. The battle has been long and hard and empty. So when he rides up, high on the dark horse, sword drawn, he does not mean to save the wrong princess.

The one he is supposed to save is shrieking. She spots him from her post, her hands tied with thick ropes, hair matted and damp, her heavy body twisting towards him. She is grimy, days spent in capture. The daughter of some haughty king. Spoiled with gluttony, impatient for rescue.

"Bastard. Over here! BASTARD. YOU BASTARD"

He clenches his jaw. While the title has been long revoked, he is still well known as Ned Stark's bastard. Joining a king's guard, leaving Winterfell, traveling across an ocean isn't enough to take that title from him. He urges the horse towards the horrible girl. She is even more revolting up close. Her eyes are wide with panic, and her face flushed with anger. Royalty do not do well with being uncomfortable.

"You FUCKING BASTARD. GET OVER HERE. HELP ME. NOW."

Her screams become louder and more obnoxious. She is pulling against the ropes, frantically trying to dislodge her bound hands. The enemy swarms around her, only partially aware of what is happening. They are used to her constant screaming. It's only mildly distracting to them. They have yet to figure out that Jon is almost to her.

The few guards that make their way towards him meet an early death with a quick swipe of his sword. A shrill alarm rings out through the post, and they rest disperse outwards. He quickly rushes towards the girl, sword in hand, ready to free her.

"Jesus Christ can you hurry the fuck up. You fucking bastard. Fuck fuck fuck. HURRY THE FUCK UP YOU WORTHLESS BASTARD."

With these words, something inside him snaps. Years of growing up feeling out of place, never really feeling like he had a point, losing his entire family in a span of years; her words cut through him. He can feel the last thread of duty snap. He raises his sword, and when he is as close as possible, and brings the blade down. It slices through the rope, and frees the hands of the trembling girl at the post next to the ungrateful princess.

Her violet eyes are wide with fear. She watches as he thrusts a hand at her, and it is only after a moment of hesitation that she accepts it. He pulls her up as best he can, setting her in front of him. She is small and dirty. Blood is caked around her hairline, her eyes, her neck, and down the front of her. Her once shiny hair is matted and dull; but he does not care. He pulls her close to him, adjust her to be as comfortable and safe as she can be. She gazes up at him, her hand around his waist. She then wiggles herself as close as possible, head down against his chest. She's broken, just as badly as him. He nudges the battle horse forward, and does not look back.

He can still here the other princess screaming. The obscene words and unfair names come pouring out of her mouth when she realizes he's not saving her. He's taken the servant girl, and he's not coming back. It is not long before the enemy returns, not at all shocked to still find her there. By the time he reaches the river, he hears one final shriek, and then nothing but normal chaos. His rescue girl, who has not spoken one word to him raises her head. She cocks it towards where they have come from. When she no longer hears the screaming, she seems to collapse inward.

He doesn't press her for any information until they reach a safe clearing.

"What's your name?" He doesn't mean to sound rough, but his throat is raw and his head hurts. He scoops up some water from the stream and attempts to wash off his face. She doesn't say anything, only mimics his actions. He steps closer to her, trying to help her wash the blood off. It helps a little bit. She is still smeared with blood and dirt, now he can see her. He watches as she gulps down water, and stops when she gags a bit. She still doesn't tell him her name. He squashes the wave of frustration down. After all, he did just meet her.

She finally stops gagging, and straightens herself up. She is much smaller than he first imagined. Her frame telling him that she has no eaten for a bit, but her stance telling him she is a fighter. She wipes her mouth, and pauses.

"Thank you for saving me."

Her voice is hoarse and rough and sweeter than he expected. He nods.

"You're welcome. We should head out before your friends find out where we went."

She's still watching him; an internal battle to share something him is tearing at her. She finally gives in, taking a step toward him, her eyes wary.

"I had dragons. Three of them. I…I was like her. But not. I just wanted what was rightfully mine. But they took them, and I don't know if they are alive or not. But I want them back. I need your help."

He doesn't know what to say or what to do. At this point in his life, there is nothing that shocks him. Dragons, imps, mythical beasts, icy monsters, human monsters, fairies. He has moments to decide if he should continue on with her. They will be here soon. Following his trail, wanting two prisoners instead of the one he left with. He swallows, and grabs the reins of the horse. He motions her closer.

"I will help you find them."

She is beside him, shaky and beaten down.

"I'm not mad."

"I don't think you are. Now, hop up onto this horse, and let's get out of here before we wind up in a cellar prison at the bottom of some castle." Before she can answer, he helps her up, trying to be gentle but needing to hurry. He mounts the horse behind her, and they take off. He can hear them in the distance, angry shouts and arguing. They have a good start, and with any luck, they will not catch up to him.

She rests her head against his chest again, and he can tell the last of her strength is slipping away. He tightens his arms around her and pushes forward. They will make it. There will be a warm bath, and a hot meal, and a soft bed and he will sleep and this day will be over. No one will call him a bastard tomorrow.

Her words interrupt his day dreaming. She says them softly, almost too softly for him to hear.

"My name is Dany."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam isn't so sure there are any dragons. He squints at Jon, his face scrunching up in disbelief.

"Dragons. Are you sure she's not mad. I mean, the last time anyone heard anything about dragons was…well….a long time ago."

Jon sighs. He takes another bite of his dinner, trying to think of a better reason that he brought Dany back to his post at Glensa. It was a long ride back. Her trying to tell him what happened, and him lost in thoughts of how he could explain all this. Women weren't forbidden at the lookout, but they weren't encouraged. Sam and Gilly managed to live a happy existence, with baby Sam toddling behind them cheerfully. While his brain started the thought that maybe he could be happy with Dany here, he quickly stomped it out. Not now. Not here. Not ever.

"She needed help. Dragons or no dragons. It's my duty to help those in need." It was always his duty. His honor.

Sam wasn't entirely convinced, but he shrugged it off. He wasn't the type to argue with Jon, friend or not. "Well, it's a good thing you helped her. Besides, I think she hit it off with Gilly."

That brought a small smile to Jon's face. Gilly was probably just delighted to have a girl to talk to.

"Do you think they will be friends?" Sam took a swig of his ale, and stretched. "Might be good for her. I don't think Gilly's had any real friends."

"Maybe." He had little idea how girls became friends or not. He hoped it worked out. Maybe Dany just needed a friend for a bit.

Sam accepted this, and stood, plate in hand. "Alright, Snow. I'm off to finish up before bed. I will see you and our new friend in the morning." Jon nodded; glad that Sam was here. He hadn't really been away of how much he needed a friend until the morning Sam showed up and Glensa. He didn't even mind that he had brought Gilly with him.

"Goodnight my brother."

She was fast asleep in his bed by the time he returned after dinner. She was clean, blonde hair now shiny and soft looking and her skin clean and bright without blood and dirt. From what he could tell, she was dressed in some sort of half hazard makeshift nightgown that Gilly had leant her. She looked peaceful. Gone were the traces of mad panic and the worry that had plagued her when he had asked her name.

He began to shrug off his shirt, vaguely wondering where he should sleep. Duty, honor, a certain ginger haired lady nagged at this thoughts.

"That was a long time ago." He tried to rationalize. "You aren't a member of the Night's Watch. You aren't bound by those oaths…" It would always be there. A small part of him that wouldn't heal. But for now, he was too tired and too achy to even think about sleeping on the floor. He made his way to the bed, nothing but soft pants on, and tried to carefully climb in without waking her. She needed the sleep as much as he did, and he didn't want to have an awkward conversation about who should sleep where.

He slipped under the covers, careful not to rouse her. He lay as still as possible, listening to the soft sounds of the night, to Dany breathing deeply next to him; and mere moments later he felt himself drift off to a deep sleep. For the first time in a long time, it felt good to not be alone.

She is warm and soft and everything that he doesn't remember with Ygritte. He is woken up by a loud bang outside his door, and finds her curled against him. Her head in buried in his neck, her leg thrown over him- anchoring her to him. She is smaller than Ygritte. Her feet graze his shins, and her hair tickles his ribs. For a few moments, he lets himself enjoy this. Ygritte was never one to snuggle against him. She would have considered that weak, pointless. But he has to admit that he wouldn't have minded.

Dany shifts against him, raising her head, awakening slightly embarrassed to find herself tangled around him.

"Ohhh. I'm so sorry." Her eyes are wide, more surprised than anything. She beings to pull away, and he reflexively stops her.

"It's fine."

"I was just cold. I'm used to warmer places…" She trails off, watching him carefully. "You're warm."

He should feel awkward, but he doesn't. He smiles, and shrugs. "It's ok. It's the least I can do to help." He realizes his hand is around her waist, and he lets go. She slips off of him, now sitting beside him on the bed.

"Are you uh, off to rescue more maidens today?"

His mouth turns up unexpectedly.

"Nah, I think I'm good with the one I've got."

Robb would have said he's flirting. But he doesn't really know how to flirt. It's never been needed. He's not even sure it's appropriate in this situation. But Dany beams, and his stomach feels warm.

"Well if that's the case, what can I do around here? I owe you for saving me. I'd like to repay this debt to you."

"You don't owe me anything…" he starts to say, before the knock on the door interrupts him. It takes all of three seconds before it flies open. Gilly stands there, happily spying her new friend.

"Dany! Good! You're up! I thought we could go on a walk today. I've got so much planned for us to do."

Dany just turns to Jon, and raises an eyebrow. "We can continue on this later."

With that, she hops out of bed, and glances around.

"Uh, Gilly. Perhaps I can borrow something to wear?"

This makes Gilly's entire day, and before Jon can say goodbye, the two are out the door. He flops back onto the bed, screwing his eyes shut. The bed feels cold now, and he no longer feels warm. After a few minutes he kicks the covers off, and heads out to wash up before he starts the day. He doesn't like feeling like this. Guilt gnaws at him for a moment, and it isn't until he's fully dressed does he let himself enjoy thinking about sleeping in his bed with Dany tonight.

"There were three of them."

"Three?"

"Yes. Three. But I can't remember their names. "

She's laying against him again. It only took a few all too long moments before she slid against him. Head nestled under his chin, legs over and under his, her stomach gently against his. She's tracing his collar bone. He's trying to not shiver.

"I think they brainwashed me. Or used some sort of spell."

Her fingers trace back and forth, and every time his stomach drops just a tiny bit.

"We can find them. The dragons. Or whoever brainwashed you. Find out where they are." His voice is strained, but she doesn't notice. She tries to slip closer to him, craving the warmness.

"Do you think we could?" Her voice is dreamy, her fingers stilling as she is lost in her thoughts.

"We can try." He has any army to lead. A quest to fulfill. A king to guard. Dragons and a wizard to find..

She sighs a happy sigh, and her hands stop and rest on his chest. The hope is all she needs. Her breathing deepens. Warm and sated, she drifts off to sleep.

He follows shortly behind her.

A few nights pass before Gilly keeps her over for a girl's night in.

He's not pleased with this arrangement, and it makes him surprisingly cranky. Dany is apologetic; Gilly is not.

"I NEVER got to do anything like this growing up." She stands in front of him, her posture rigid. "Besides, you can hang out with Sam."

"Fine." He mumbles angrily. He's not sure why he's so angry, but this is bringing him great annoyance.

He sulks into his glass of whatever after dinner drink his steward has brought him.

Gilly, thrilled that the former Lord Commander has conceded, crows with victory and demands Dany leave with her. He doesn't get to say goodbye, but it doesn't matter. He hates how this is making his stomach feel, and he hates Gilly more than anyone he has ever hated.

He doesn't sleep well without her. This is the hardest realization he has made so far. "It's not her. It's just a warm person next to you." He tries to tell himself this over and over. But it is her. It's her laugh, her fingers tracing patterns on him, her hair tickling him. Her talk of dragons and kings and a land across an ocean that makes him homesick for Winterfell. It hasn't been that long. Maybe a few weeks, maybe a month. She's made him lose track of time, made his head swim, and made him want more than he can comprehend.

It is somewhere very very early in the morning when she slips back into bed with him. He blearily opens his eyes, relieved to find her curling against him, cold as the night. He greedily reaches for her, pulling her against him as tight as possible.

When she is settled in, he feels her hand find his heartbeat, and feels her still beside him.

"I couldn't sleep without you." Her voice isn't small anymore. It's just tired and sleepy, but strong. She's come to the same realization that he has.

It is then, and only then, that he feels complete again.

They sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Notes:

Thank you for the nice reviews. It's really been cool to be able to write this. I LOVE this paring. I hope they end up together, but who knows.

Someone asked if this story will ever feature Dany's point of view. I'm debating it. I was thinking about going back and writing it from her point of view. But we will see

Thanks for reading. And sorry about the formatting. I still haven't quite figured all that out yet.

King Royce is tall, and reminds Jon of Robb. Close in age, he has dark curly hair and an easy laugh. It echoes off the walls when Jon asks him if he's heard anything about dragons.

"Dragons? Ha! No! I haven't heard of anyone talk about in dragons in at least a couple of years. Dare I even ask why?" He's amused by the question.

Unsure of how to proceed with the conversation, Jon shrugs and thinks for a minute. "Just heard some rumors. Thought maybe they be kind of fun to have around. No one would mess with dragons. We could conquer anything if we had one."

King Royce takes this in, and glances around the great room. Several guards mill around, wait staff clear the table and a few fancily dressed ladies clink glass together and pay no attention to the King and to Jon. Satisfied that there isn't anyone listening in on their conversation, he leans in and in a low voice tells him, "We could. We would be unstoppable. If we could get some god damned dragons. Every king wants a dragon. But listen, I have no desire to cross any oceans for just the possibility of a dragon. A while ago some chum tried to convince me he knew where they were. Now, I'm not stupid. I know there aren't any dragons here. I know there aren't any dragons across any ocean. But we're about to invade this fool's castle, so feel free to interrogate the son of a bitch about those dragons if you get the chance."

The King straightens up, and adjusts his shiny gold crown. Jon nods, feeling the tiniest bit of hope and the tiniest bit of worry starting up. Perhaps there is some truth to these mythical creatures. Dany will be thrilled. He debates not telling her.

"If I find one, can I keep it?" He asks almost seriously.

King Royce smiles a wide, amused smile.

"My boy, if you find one, you can do whatever you please." After a second, he frowns. "Just don't take my crown. I rather like it."

Jon laughs, the tension in the room disappearing. "Alright fine, you can keep the crown. I'll keep the dragon."

King Royce dismisses him after hours of intense planning. The neighboring castle is several days away, but weakly guarded and poorly staffed. It should be an easy acquisition. He won't be away from Dany for too long.

He decides not to tell her about the possibility of the dragons. She hasn't mentioned them since that night, and he's not so sure he wants to bring them up. What if he finds a dragon? Would he even be able to catch one? Would what should do with it? Would she leave? She would leave. Probably ride off in the middle of the night. The last thought hurts his head as he makes his way back to his living quarters. He won't tell her. He realizes how selfish this is, but he can't help himself.

He makes his way out of the castle, and stops to watch the sun slowly fall below the tree tops. He tries to imagine a great dragon skimming along the tops, perhaps bobbing along the skyline. He can't conjure anything grand in his mind, only large fat birds that resemble turkeys with dark scales, crashing into the branches and squawking. He won't tell her about the possibility dragons.

That night her hair is different. It's braided in some fashion, all looped together and complicated looking. She's staring in a mirror, craning her neck, critically looking at every angle.

"It, uh, looks nice?" His voice echoes in the room. He's unsure if she even cares what he thinks. Personally, he likes it better down. But she's staring at it with such a weird expression that he keeps his mouth shut.

"I used to wear it like this. It meant something, I guess. But it doesn't feel right. Why isn't it right?" Her lips are pulled tight, and he can tell she doesn't expect an answer from him. The memory issue bothers her. She's impatient with how slowly she can remember things. She's run countless questions past him, none of which he can answer. He wishes he could help, but he doesn't know how. He walks closer to her, until he is right behind her.

"I think it looks pretty."

She shakes her head, scowling at him in the mirror.

"Sam said you had a girlfriend."

She's really glaring now, and he's never wanted to hurt Sam until this point.

"Did she wear her hair like this?" She's looking at him, oddly wounded.

He lets out a sigh, and reaches towards her hair. He finds the ends of the braid, and begins working the band loose, and slowly separating it strand by strand. He continues on, working each way until he reaches the top. He focuses on her hair, and she stays perfectly still, continuing to scowl at him.

"I guess. I never paid attention to her hair. I left her, bound by duty but really just using that to hide my cowardice. I didn't think I deserved to be happy. She was shot in an attack against my post. She died before I could ever tell her why I left. She never combed her hair. Or brushed it. Or cared about it in any way. But yours, yours I like. I like it down, I like it soft, and I like the way it feels against me. I like how it feels when we sleep, I like how it feels when you hug me goodbye, and I like how it's perfect no matter how it looks."

He tangles his fingers in her hair, and gently rubs her scalp where the tight braids started. Her eyes close, and he rests his chin against the top of her head.

"Please don't leave." He mumbles. "I never meant to not tell you. I don't know why Sam would bring that up…"

She's quiet, her eyes still shut.

"This isn't me. I don't know why I care that you were with her. This just isn't me." Her voice is far away.

Her hair is everywhere again, and she breaks the trance, and turns to face him.

"Maybe when I can remember, I will know why it bothers me." She's so close to him; she's all he can feel. Pressed against him, he can feel the warmth radiating off her. He slips his hands back into her hair, tilting her to look at him. H

"I wouldn't have been happy with her. Ever. She would have tired of this life, tired of me, tired of everything. I would not have been enough for her…"

"You are enough." The words are out of her mouth, and it's the last thing he hears before he feels her lips very gently, and very softly press against his.


	4. Chapter 4

Kissing her is much much much different than kissing Ygritte. While he hates that the comparison even pops into his head, she's the only other girl he's ever kissed. Ygritte was so fiercely wild and desperate to claim him as one of the Wildlings, and kissing her seemed more like giving up a tiny part of himself into her madness. Kissing Dany is nothing like that.

He is lost in it all. Her fingers sneak into his hair, and twist around the dark curls. She stands up on her tips toes, trying to get closer, pulling them as close together as possible. His head feels light, his heart threatening to burst from his chest, pumping embarrassingly fast against his ribcage. He can't stop, doesn't want to stop, and wouldn't if he didn't need air. He breaks away gently, catching his breath for a moment while gazing at her. Her eyes are soft her cheeks are flushed. He doesn't want to break the spell they're under, and neither does she; almost immediately she reaches back to him, and the world falls away when her lips meet his.

The night seems darker than normal, but the cracks of lightning light up the room every few minutes. She's on top of him, straddling his lap, while he sits upright and frantically kisses her. He can't get close enough, and neither can she. She makes a sound of annoyance and she tries to get closer to him. He understands, the need to feel her against him driving him mad.

It was nothing like this with Ygritte.

He grabs at her, pulling her until she is as close as possible.

She tilts her head, and he trails his lips along her jawline, down her neck, down to collarbone. She squirms against him, letting out a small sight of delight.

"Don't stop." She pleads.

The thunder crashes, and the lightning strikes.

Tonight, they will not sleep.

The sun is too bright. King Royce is speaking all too loudly.

Jon looks at the plans in front of him; maps and diagrams, names and dates, and all of it seems to be written in anything but English. His head swims. This is why the men of the Night's Watch did not take wives. He is distracted, a lovesick boy day dreaming of the minute he can return to his love. He shakes his head and tries to make sense of what the King is saying. It is nearly impossible, but he tries. He gathers up the plans, and glances guiltily at King Royce.

"Sorry. I'm having a hard time today."

The King claps him on the shoulder, and smiles.

"I'm not worried. This is old hat to you. Nothing more than a routine attack." He looks at Jon, his eyes slightly more intense. "I know the girl means a lot to you. More than you are willing to admit to yourself. If this goes according to plan, it might be enough for you and her to make a happy life together."

The words startle him. The scenario so far out from what he's imagined for himself. He hasn't even allowed himself to think of a life with her. If the King can tell, he pretends not to notice.

"Head up, Snow. It will be over in a few days. I have faith in you."

Jon fakes a smile, "Thank you, your grace. Same time tomorrow?" The King nods, and dismisses Jon with a wave of his hand. With that, he exists, papers in hand and cheeks feeling hot.

She does mean more to him than anyone can imagine. Even more than he's willing to admit.

She is warm beneath him. Her skin is flushed, her blood hot in her veins. He moves with her, deliciously and maddeningly slow. She claws at his back, shoves her hands into his hair, and urges him on. She writhes beneath him, and he gasps her name into her hair. This moment over whelms him. He had no idea what it was like to be so close to someone. To feel so much of them. To want to never disconnect from her again.

He hears her begin to repeat his name, and feels her whole body tighten.

"You are my everything." He manages to gasp against her. He did not plan the words, and he can not stop them. They fall out of his mouth. Their truth adding to the intensity. He feels himself tense up, his stomach coiling in bliss.

"You, Jon Snow, are mine."

He feels himself let go, his body giving in to her, his mind and his heart following quickly behind. Or leading the way. He can't tell at this point. She is spent beneath him, and he collapses against her. Trying not to crush her, he rolls to the sides, pulling her with him. Tangle, anchor, closer, then repeat.

She sighs contently against him. Sleep pulls at him, and he does not fight very hard against it.

He no longer wishes to find the dragons.


	5. Chapter 5

++ I hope everyone had a wonderful Valentine's Day! ++

Samwell Tarly is one of the few men that Jon trusts whole heartedly. He's one of the few men that he knows will have his back until the end. That doesn't mean he doesn't feel the tiniest bit silly telling him about his plan to find the dragons.

"You think they're just there? In the castle?" Sam is lacing up his boots, sitting next to Jon in the armory. The days have grown shorter and colder, and a there is a faint chill in the room. He glances over at Jon who is staring intently at the wall of shields.

Jon meets Sam's gaze, and feels a rush of heat in his cheeks. "Doesn't hurt to look while we are there." Sam shrugs, and starts on the other boot.

"She wants them. The dragons. They belong to her?"

"She does. She believes they are hers."

"And you?"

"If she wants them, I will find them. I owe her that.

He doesn't really want to find them. Not because he doesn't believe in them, nor does the thought of finding them bother him; but because he doesn't want her to leave. He knows his motives are purely self-centered. She doesn't belong to him, but she has become the only thing important to him. If he finds these dragons, how long will she hang around with him?. How long before she takes over a kingdom and forgets that it is he that listened to her worries in the darkest parts of the night? Or that he opened himself to her, when he didn't intend to ever open up to anyone again. Or it was to him that she confessed dark words that haunted her mind? The thought of these dragons sit like a rock in his stomach.

"Well, if it's dragons you want, then it is dragons we shall look for." Sam watches him for a moment. "She won't leave you know. I've seen the way she looks at you. I've seen the way you look at her. And she won't leave. Even if we find the dragons."

His words catch Jon off guard, and he jerks his head at Sam.

"I…I never said…"

"I know. But I also know why you've looked like someone made you eat rotten stew for the past week. You're worried she'll leave you. I don't blame you. But I can promise you this, she won't. Now, lace up your boots. We're due to meet with King Royce."

Sam claps him on the shoulder, and stands up.

"Besides, all great wizards have dragons."

King Royce has offered up as many men as Jon and Sam are willing to take, plus a few personal squires, an entourage of his finest men, and some of the top swordsmen in the kingdom.

"This should be easy. You just need to get through the city, storm the castle, and find King Ruthers. He will fold easily, for he is old and weak. Do not harm him, let him live. Bring him back to me. He can stay here and I will make sure he lives out a peaceful existence. But I want his kingdom. All of it." There is an excitement in his eyes and Jon can feel the familiar stirrings of anticipation. It's been a while since he's done anything other than scout for King Royce.

"We leave tomorrow." He raises his goblet, gold and shiny, a dark outline of a creature faintly visible. "At Dawn."

Jon and Sam nod, each raising a glass full of expensive wine, and smile.

"Tomorrow."

She doesn't want him to leave.

This doesn't surprise him, but it doesn't make it any easier. She's curled on their bed, wrapped in a dark blanket, her bright hair almost glowing against the dark fabric.

"Tomorrow is so soon."

He hasn't told her what he will be looking for there, just that he is to help take down a feeble king. Her lips are pressed together, displeasure showing on her face.

"You could send Sam. And stay here with me."

He just watches her, a small smile playing on his mouth. He shrugs off the heavy cloak, tossing it next to the bed.

"You think this is funny?" She's a little more upright now, clutching the blanket closer to her. "Leaving me here, while are you off riding around, conquering kingdoms?"

He steps closer to the bed, beginning to undo the laces of the stiff fabric of his shirt. King Royce likes his men dressed in black. It's familiar to him, ironic in a way.

"Do you want to come with me?" The over shirt is off, and he feels slightly exposed. She is watching him closely, her eyes observing him as though she will not see him again for a long time. She moves closer to the edge of the bed, the blanket forgotten now.

"No."

He kicks off his boots, and finally his pants before her hands reach him. Her fingers trace down his shoulders, down his arms, toy with the palms of his hands before she laces her fingers with his.

"Do you promise you will come back?" She doesn't meet his eyes for a moment, and when she does, they are deeply dark. "Please promise."

His voice is rough.

"I promise."

She tugs him close to her, his knees bumping the bed. He wants to tell her, but he doesn't. He doesn't want to imagine the aftermath if he returns empty handed. He's disappointed too many. She doesn't need to be one of them.

He lets go of her hands, cupping her cheek.

"I won't be gone long. A few days at most."

She smiles at him, the smile not meeting her eyes completely.

"I don't like to be cold. And it's cold without you…"

He can't bear to hear any more, so he covers her lips with his. He shifts her back, climbing onto the bed, knocking dark blankets and soft furs aside. His lips trail down her jaw, and find a soft spot on her neck that makes her squirm.

"Just a few days. And then I will be back. And I will keep you warm. For as long as you wish."

She makes a small whimpering sound, before she breaks free. She manages to turn him around. She climbs onto his lap, pressing him against countless pillows. She straddles him, her hands touching every part of him she can reach. This is her favorite spot, and it's quickly becoming his favorite. His hands skim her back, her paper thin nightgown in his way. He fumbles for the bottom of it, grunting out of frustration at the sheer fabric, and yanks it upwards. She laughs, helping him as she pulls it over her head.

"What if my wish is for forever?"

There is nothing between them now, and when she sinks down onto him, he almost cannot handle the warmth. She is white hot. He feels her move against him desperately, needing to feel the friction between them. His mind is unable to think of anything except how she feels around him.

"Forever it is then." He manages to gasp out, pleasure consuming him.

"Oh, Jon… Snow…."she sighs, her head lolling back. Her hair tickles his thighs, and the sensation pushes him over the edge. He yanks her back to him, greedily finding her mouth. They work together, each frantic to be impossibly closer.

"Forever." She tightens around him, her back tensing beneath his hands. The sensation is all it takes before he feels himself spill inside of her, the feeling so intense that he doesn't know how it can ever be any better than this. He feels wild. Out of control. He can't slow his breathing, and his skin feels blissfully and deliciously hot. She kisses him repeatedly, sloppily; her energy spent. Her eyes are half open, and she nuzzles against him. "Warm. You are so wonderfully warm." She pushes herself against him, and they tangle in happy sated bliss. Together, they lie back, and he manages to remember to pull covers over them.

"Forever." He manages one final time.

He will leave before she wakes. It will still be dark, but she will still be warm.

King Ruthers gives in easily. Partially because is so old he has no idea what is going on, and partially, because he takes a liking to Sam. "I have gold. Lots and lots of gold! You can have it all!" He crows cheerfully, as Sam almost guiltily leads him out of the run down throne room.

"Great. Jon. Jon. JON." Sam is frantically motioning for him. Jon nods as the guardsmen take the king, and the squires obediently follow.

"He mentioned a door. There's a door that leads downstairs. Behind this room." Sam leads him through a hallway, arriving at a large wooden door. It is heavily lacquered, and heavily bolted. A large plaque is mounted next to the door, two serpent heads intertwined.

"Casen. Mathers!" Jon yells. "A little help here." Two larger men appear, and with Sam and Jon, they easily break down the door. It smashes to the ground, and Jon peers down the stairs. It is completely dark, and uninviting. Mathers disappears, then reappears, a makeshift torch lit up in his hand. He thrusts it towards Jon, and smiles widely. "After you."

They make their way down stairs that become more and more slippery the further down they go. After what seems like ages, they reach the bottom. Jon squints in the darkness, barely able to make out the large room, and what seems like dark tunnels at the end.

"I don't see anything." Sam is next to him, scanning the room. The torch hisses in the damp air, threatening to flicker out. He walks a few feet a head, and then stops in tracks. He freezes, cocking his head to the side. "Did you hear that?"

Jon stills, trying to hear anything in the darkness. The disappointment is almost crippling. There is nothing hear except dank waters and rotten stones. He hears nothing. He shakes his head, and he can tell Sam is spooked. He notices that Casen and Mathers are still on the steps.

"Let's just go a little further."

Casen and Mathers don't move.

"It's not safe Sir."

He looks back at them, surprised at this.

"Why?"

He can barely make out Mathers' expression in the darkness, but he can feel the discomfort radiating off of him.

"We've been warned. By Ruther's guards. They said not to leave the bottom steps." He hesitates before continuing. "They said he put it down here."

"What did they put down here?" Sam's voice if panic filled.

Behind Sam there is a large, soft thud that is followed by a large, animalistic shriek. Jon turns, panic now feeling hot through his veins.

"Sam. Don't move."

Behind Sam, in the darkest part of the room, two very large, very yellow eyes open in the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this! It's been really fun to write, and really nice to get it out of my head. My apologies to anyone who has a hard time with the OOCness of the story or character. Like I said, I love these two together, and this story definitely doesn't follow any/most/a lot of the canon from the books. But thank you for following along.

Oh, and to anyone who asked about his last name after being legitimized, I felt that he never truly felt like a Stark, and would feel weird about taking on anything other than Snow. But that's just me : )

* * *

The yellow eyes glow before him. They blink, and the blackest parts search for movement in the darkness. The eyes are much larger than he was prepared for.

"Jon."

Sam's voice is shaky, and he is frozen in place except for his shaking hands. "Jon. What is behind me? Is it the dragon? It is the dragon, isn't it?" The last word is shrill and painful sounding as Sam tries his best not to move.

The beast shifts in the darkness, and there is a large metallic clank. Jon wonders if it is perhaps chained to something. King Ruther's surely would have had to contain it. But how? How did he even get it down here? He tries to stop the wild racing of his heart, hoping to calm himself down. It only halfway works.

"Sam. Stay very very still. I'm going to get a light." He slowly steps backwards, keeping an eye on Sam's face. He reaches behind him blindly for Mathers or Casen. They are further than he would like them to be, and Mathers shoves the make shift torch into Jon's hand.

"Is it true?" Mathers voice doesn't sound any better than Sam's, and his mouth is drawn into a tight line.

"I don't know. I need to see what it is. Stay here, and be ready to come if I need you."

Mathers doesn't respond, but Jon isn't paying attention. He's already almost back to Sam, trying to keep his own hand from shaking. The light flickers against the dark, and he can make out Sam's form. A few seconds later, he stands next to him. Sam's eyes are wide, and his face is pale and sweaty.

"I can feel it breathing on me."

Jon raises the torch.

Behind Sam, the two eyes close, and the creatures lets out a hiss. It moves against an unknown anchor, angry at its capture. The weak light reveals dirty pale scales, a darker crest along the head. The body of the great animal is barely visible, but it goes on for longer than Jon cares to know. He can feel the warmth radiating off the dragon. A sense of familiarity washes over him, and he unconsciously steps towards it.

"Jon. I think that's close enough."

He ignores him, and stretches out a hand towards the creature. It pulls again, and the head swings towards him. Its' sharp black teeth gleam against the light. He presses forward, as close as he can bear. It is millimeters away from him now.

"Jon. Jon, I don't think that's wise." Sam's voice is low, trying not to draw attention to him.

His hand reaches the dragon, and he is surprised to find the rough scales hot to the touch. It takes only a moment for him to adjust, and he lets his hand linger along the sides of its neck. The dragon shifts again, and the metal clash rings in his ears. He can feel the muscles work under the scales. It is tense; its head craning towards Jon now, perhaps figuring out the best angle at which it will snap his neck.

"No really. We need to get out of here."

The dragon huffs at the sound of Sam's voice, and he can feel every movement. He is frozen in place, not sure what to do next. The creature is much larger than he could have imagined. If it does belong to Dany, perhaps she would know what to do with it. He didn't dare dream of ever really finding one.

He's not sure how long he stands there, but the dragon never breaks his gaze. It does not make any attempt to hurt him, it simply stares, and occasionally shifts itself. The air is broken when Casen and Mathers appear beside him with more fire. They are terrified, and the dragon senses their panic. It immediately breaks Jon's touch, and lets out a roar louder than anything Jon has ever heard.

Sam grabs Jon, and shoves him forward.

"We need to go. You found your girl her dragon, now she can get it out of here."

He doesn't have time to respond; Mathers and Casen force him up the stairs towards the light. The dragon roars over and over, thrashing angrily. The clanking is loud and painful, it echoes up each step he takes.

His ears are ringing, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lights. He is back in the decrepit throne room before he can catch his thoughts.

"You tell no one what is down there. Do you hear me? No one." He stands in front of the former guards, and watches them closely. Their faces are pale and ill-looking. Casen is visibly shaken. Together they nod obediently, but Jon is not convinced. Sam stands next to them, looking ghostly white.

"Are you all right?"

Sam swallows, and nods, but looks anything but. He wipes his face with his sleeves, rubbing his eyes as if he has just awoken from some sort of dream.

"We need to go, Jon. We need to get out of here and back to King Royce. Let him take care of the dragon.."

"No."

Sam's eyes widen.

"Go back. Bring Dany here to me. Tell no one else what you saw here."

"But Jon, how do i…will she…what do I say..?" Sam trails off, unsure of this plan.

"Just bring her here. Please."

Sam sighs, but eventually nods. "I'll be back in the morning. I won't tell a soul. But what if she won't come?"

Jon smiles, feeling the smallest inkling of hope.

"Tell her I found her dragon."

* * *

Mathers and Casen show him through the rest of the castle. He's slightly uneasy wandering its halls while the dragon lurks below, but he doesn't really have a choice. He keeps himself distracted by taking in each of the great rooms, and trying to memorize his way around.

"This is a guest room. " The smaller man opens a door to a large suite. Casen is polite but distant, and Jon can tell that the dragon has thrown him off.

"You didn't know it was really down there, did you?" He asks. Casen's eyes widen, and he looks at Mathers before shaking his head. "I had no idea. King Ruthers had hinted that he was keeping something down there, but he wasn't quite right in the head. I thought it was just nonsense."

Mathers nods in agreement. "He said a lot of crazy things. A dragon in the castle wasn't exactly the most unusual thing we'd heard." He absentmindedly runs his fingers through his hair. "I never thought it would be true."

Jon smiles, "Me either."

He is woken up first by thunder, then by the weight of her as she climbs over him and settles in next to him. He is still half asleep as he feels her fingers trace along his face, over his lips, and back along his jaw.

He has missed her. The few days apart have felt much longer than they should have. Her fingers outline his ears, and he shivers.

"There is a dragon here, and you want to sleep?"

Her voice is teasing, and he only knows because she is now nestled against him. She presses closer, always closer, and sighs.

"I've missed you. You've been gone far too long. Even if you did find a dragon."

He still isn't awake enough to form words, so he just mumbles something incoherently into her hair, and runs his hands down her back. He pulls her against him, and closes his eyes. It is only in the moments before he falls back into the sweet lull of sleep that he realizes that she is just as warm as her dragon down below.


	7. Chapter 7

He is not surprised when she leaves with the dragon.

The surprising part is just how much it hurts. He used to saying goodbye, and even more used to not saying goodbye. He tries to put on a brave face, for he is strong and does not need her to make him happy. But the hardest realization is that she does make him happy, and her sudden departure feels like a repeated kick in the stomach.

He knows it as soon as she sees the beast. She coos its name, and it lifts its giant head and lets out almost a mewing sound. She knows this dragon, and it knows her.

"He's so much bigger than the last time I saw him."

Her voice gives way to her awe. Her hands glide over the scales, the dragon's head bowing and searching for her. Jon says nothing, just watches her, his stomach sinking. He promised her forever, but in this moment, she cannot keep her promise.

"Help me get him free."

Her eyes glow bright in the light, and it only takes six brave men to help her loosen the metal restraints. The dragon, now totally visible, is much larger than he could have ever imagined. Its scales are a shiny cream, almost white in the light. It stretches its wings, as though the cramped position caused him nothing more than a small ache.

"How will you get him out of here?" Jon's voice is low. He can already feel her a million miles away.

"He will show me." There is a dreaminess to her voice that he has only heard while she loses herself with him in the darkest hours of the night. She is already gone, not realizing what she is doing.

It is mere moments later that the great beast takes off, smashing through crumbling walls. She is on him, somewhere. He tries desperately to catch even the smallest sight of her, but it is useless. He watches until the dragon is out of sight; a familiar ache settling in his chest.

* * *

He doesn't want to look at Sam. He sits at the table with King Royce, King Ruthers, Mathers and Carsen, a few guards he doesn't recognize, and Sam. He can feel the sympathetic, almost sheepish looks that Sam is giving him from across the table. He focuses on the cooked turkey. He might as well be chewing ashes.

"Who would have thought it! A dragon! Beneath your castle! All this time. Ruthers, you wild cad!" King Royce is joyfully swirling his wine in a goblet, just elated at not only the conquer of a kingdom, but at the thought of the dragon that comes along with it.

Ruthers smiles wildly. "I know! What a wonderful pet! Shame he wasn't very friendly."

King Royce takes this in for a moment. "When can I see this dragon?"

Mathers and Casen both look at Jon, then at each other.

"It uh, got away." Casen does not look at the king. "Broke free when we found it."

The joyful expression drops off King Royce's face, but his smile doesn't falter.

"It just…got away?"

Jon continues to chew, finding it harder and harder to swallow. He can picture her now. Long hair flowing behind her, her dress slipping in the wind and she and the dragon fly higher into the sky.

"Well, see, it just uh broke free when we got close and broke through the wall." Sam is trying. He can tell. He doesn't want Jon to have to confess that they watched it fly away.

"I see."

"It was impossible to stop. Rather uh surprising when it took off."

Casen and Mathers nod, and Ruthers happily raises his goblet.

"Dragons are not pets. Goodbye, white dragon. May you find someone who will let you pet them and feed you apples."

Jon chokes on the turkey.

King Royce lets out a strange, small laugh and claps Jon on the shoulder.

"Well my boy, we almost had it all."

* * *

The rain starts the minute he leaves dinner. He collapses onto his bed, still in his dark uniform. When he opens his eyes, Ygritte is next to him in his bed. Her long red hair is tangled, and her face is smeared with dirt and blood. Her lips twist into some sort of smirk.

"Doesn't feel so great, does it crow?"

The words are long and drawn out, and he can feel his chest tighten. "Ygritte…"

"You know nothing, Jon Sno…" before she can finish the words, she begins to bleed. Dark spots bloom on her shirt, turning it darker and darker.

"No! Ygritte." He sits up, and frantically presses his palms to her, trying to stop the blood. He tries desperately to find where it's coming from. He pulls furs apart, searching for some sort of wound.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice is different, and when he jerks his head up, all he can see are pale violet eyes, and long soft blonde hair. The blood tints her night dress now, almost a bruised color.

"I'm so sorry." Her eyes are wide, she reaches for him.

Her hands reach him, desperate to pull him close. It is then that he jerks awake, a feeling of despair of overwhelming that he can barely breathe. For a few heartbeats, he is hopeful that she is there. But as the moments pass, he realizes that she is still gone.

He wants to be angry. He wants to react violently, punch the wall, anything to let his rage out. But he is tired, so tired. There is nothing like that left in him. Instead he lies back down, and pushes his palms against his eyes until colored patterns appear. She is gone, and he can disappear too.

* * *

Sam is not gentle with him after a few weeks.

"I can't keep King Royce away from you any longer. You need to snap out of it. You've been through much worse…"His words start out strong, but falter at the end. Sam is still his friend, perhaps the only person who truly cares for him now; but even he doesn't want to be the one to try to talk some sense into him. Sam's words don't anger him; they make him feel weak and exposed.

"I don't know how to get over her." The words feel like a confession as they slip out of his mouth.

Sam just stares at him, the furs on his collar bending in the wind.

"I don't know if I want to." He walks away, and Sam doesn't follow.

He doesn't go to his lunch with King Royce. Instead he takes a palace horse out of the stable, the darkest one he can find, and rides until the horse will ride no more.


	8. Chapter 8

He starts to crave the sun. The warmth is familiar to him now, much more pleasant than the icy cold he's used to. He spends his time wandering the small story book town, and lounging in the rays whenever he can. The townsfolk are polite here. A king's guard in their streets is an honor; most will smile and wave or even warmly greet him though he is a stranger. He finds hours of his time perusing their town limits, finding unexplored areas all while trying to ignore the small spark of hope that he will find her hidden amongst it's lush valleys.

The ache in his chest is still there. It gnaws worse in the night, but is less noticeable in the day. As long as his mind is busy, he doesn't have time to think. But in the quiet of night, he has time.

Tonight is the worst it has been. He slumps against a lounging chair, watching the sky glitter. He sighs and tries to forget that he misses her. It proves impossible. Each beat of his heart reminds him that he wanted everything with her. He gazes upwards and wonders if she ever thinks of him.

As midnight strikes, he finds himself naming every star in the sky after her.

* * *

Weeks pass, rumors whisper, and one day he wakes up to discover it doesn't hurt so badly to be alive. His thoughts wander to other things. Sansa, Arya, Bran...even Tyrion. He wonders if they are still alive, or if they know he's alive. He misses Arya the most of all. He wonders if she's any taller now, or any better with the sword. He wonders if Sansa found her ever after, or if Bran is now king of the north. These thoughts are soothing to him. They coat his mind, almost numbing the thoughts of anything but his family.

They accompany him while he hikes over hills, takes in lush beach landscapes, and stomps through long fields. He wishes more than anything he could talk to Rob. Even just for a few moments. He would know what to say to wake him up out of this nightmare. He would help him man up, forget the girl that flew off on a magical creature. "Life's not a fairy tale, Jon." He would firmly remind him. Then they would have a good laugh, and think of a funny prank to play on Bran and Theon.

As the days pass, he doesn't find her. But he finds that he can carry on.

* * *

When he wakes up in the morning, he discovers the impending clouds and almost immediately feels irritable. He laces his shirt tighter than normal, almost as if this will keep out the chill in the air. He makes his way out of the boarding house he is staying at. The owners have been generous. He's stayed here for very little, they've boarded the palace horse without question, and they've asked for little other than some kind words when he returns to the King.

Today, the gentle old man stops him as he makes his way past the stables.

"Sir Snow!"

He inwardly cringes at the title.

"Do you have a moment?" The old man reminds him slightly of his father. Just an older, slightly heavier version.

"Of course." He stops next to him, and glances at the stables. The palace horse stands out against the others. He is dark as the night, and shinier than any of them. It catches sight of him, and whines.

"You're an adventurous man. You must have seen a lot in your days. "

Jon nods, unsure where this is going. "A lot more than I would like to, yes."

The old man pauses, and leans against the railing. "Have you ever seen anything…unusual?"

"Unusual?"

"You know, out of the ordinary? Mythical? Almost unreal?"

Jon feels his stomach tighten.

"I've seen a lot of things, sir. Most of them would be unreal to most people."

The old man squints at him, and leans in closer. His voice drops low and he glances around quickly before he speaks.

"I know why you left King Royce's guard. I know why you've moped around here for the past few months. And I know, for a fact that you know that girl has that dragon."

A wave of nausea washes over him as he hears the final words from the man.

"There are rumors starting people seeing a dragon over these parts. I know they're true. And I know where she is."

* * *

The old man's directions lead him opposite any area that he's explored before. When it comes into view, the palace is grand. It's set back from picturesque beach. The palace is wide and airy; its' towers seems to touch the sky, and it spans for as far as he can see. Soft teal flags wave in the breeze, vibrant against the storm clouds. He wonders how she has such a extravagant palace. How she is so close to him and hasn't even bothered explain herself. But then, she couldn't have known he had left King Royce's castle. The thoughts rush his brain so intensely he can think of nothing else. So instead he focuses on how he's going to get into the palace.

The hall is longer than any hall he has ever seen.

Jon thinks he might throw up as they walk through a grand hall. They have been walking for some time now, and the castle seems never ending. Some rooms are open air, and all have small touches of her in them. He can almost feel her here. The guard did not completely believe his story. Even his talk of the dragon didn't seem to leave an impression on the burly guy. He simply grunted, and waved him inside, and roughly introduces him to a man who seems to be some sort of servant to Dany. The man is tall and unfriendly. He reluctantly listens to Jon's explanation and agrees to take him to her.

"Right up ahead."

He focuses on door ahead until they stop in front of it. For all those nights that he thought of her, all those times he dreamt of confronting her, pleading with her, or demanding some sort of explanation; he now has no words. He cannot form a single thought that makes sense. The steward knocks loudly, and throws the door open. He motions for Jon to go forward, and does not give him the chance to change his mind.

Inside, the room is bright and warm, and smells just like her. There is a large bed in the middle of it, gauzy curtains creating a soft oasis. Tables with delicate gold trim sit to the sides, doors open to a balcony, and a wardrobe spot the room. He steps further in, taking in everything. The bed is perfectly made up, and the only clue that she's even been here is a slip of dress is tossed onto one of the chairs.

"She's not here."

The man smirks at him. "No. She's not."

Jon shakes his head angrily. "Where is she?"

He shrugs. "No idea."

There is an odd feeling in the air. Jon feels himself growing uneasy. Something is not right.

"Where is she?" His voice is loud in the room.

The steward says nothing, but heads towards the door and starts to shut it.

"What are you doing?" Jon steps towards the door, but the man pulls a sword before he can take another step.

"I know who you are. I know why you want to see her. Unfortunately for you, I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen." He steps towards him, sword drawn and aimed at his throat.

"She has everything now. A dragon. A kingdom. Power. I'm not going to let it go to waste just so she can chase after you like some love sick child." The sword touches his skin, the blade dry against his throat.

He can feel the panic in his blood.

"I've heard her talk of you. How you rescued her. How she owes everything to you. I've heard her whimper your name in the night. I've listened to her thoughtless plans of you joining her here. I watched her ride off to find you. To bring you back here. But unfortunately for you, this kingdom will not bow to a bastard king. Especially not me." It happens before he can react.

The blade of the sword is hotter than he would have guessed.

* * *

He can feel his life slipping away from him.

He can feel it in every ounce of his being. His eyes feel like they are full of sand, his throat hurts, and he cannot move. The room grows hazy, occasionally lightening up, but always returning to a gentle blur. He vaguely wonders if Rob will come greet him as he crosses over.

His head begins to pound, and he can feel himself grow weak. He hears footsteps in the distance, perhaps Rob. He tries to turn his head, but it is so heavy that he cannot move it.

He hears a soft gasp.

He feels panicked hands grab at him, brushing hair off his forehead and cradling his skull. He can't see anything, it's dark and cold now.

"My gods, no. Jon. No no no." The words echo in his head, and he can feel the presence of several people now.

"Let him go." The voice is rough, older.

"No." The hands do not let go of him, instead they pull at him, and it is only then that he slips out of consciousness and into a dark sleep.

He is warm now.

* * *

The bed feels heavenly, the air is warm, and she is hot against him. He is happy in this place. When his eyes force themselves open, it is with great reluctance. The dream will be over. He will awake either in some form of the afterlife, or alone in a cold, dark room.

Except he awakes to neither.

He is in her bed now. He can see the curtains are soft and actually a pale green, the sheets are softer than anything he's slept on, and she is there. Wrapped gently around him, her hands possessively splayed over his chest. Her leg thrown over his, her hips angled towards him. She is real. He can feel her, the heat of her skin, the silk of the night dress, her hair, and weight; it is almost too much.

He can barely swallow. His fingers explore his neck, only to find a large cloth bandage covering most of it. His head still pounds, and his eyes feel sore. It hurts to breathe. Everything else hurts equally as bad.

But it doesn't matter.

She is here.

He manages to sit up a bit, adjusting her slightly. She shifts in her sleep, unconsciously searching for him. He is barely dressed in any clothing, but mostly covered in crude compresses. He takes in her form, allowing himself the luxury of this moment.

He's still not sure he's really alive.

Her eyes flutter open, and when she sees him, she bolts upright, almost knocking him over.

"You're alive."

Her words are soft. Her hands reach for his face, she scoots closer. Her fingers trace down his cheeks and brush his lips.

"My God, you are alive."

Her pale eyes are watery, and he can't breathe. He hasn't been alive in a long time. Not since she left. He reaches for her, and she collapses against him. His ribs ache against her, but the feeling of her against him outweighs the pain.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

She repeats these words over and over, gently touching him wherever won't cause him pain. She smooth's his hair over and over, desperately needing to touch him.

"Say something. Anything." She is pleading with him now. "Tell me it's ok. Please. Please."

He still can't breathe; he can only look at her. His mind is full of eloquent words, but he can only stare and try to keep himself together. He wants to tell her everything. That she is his world. That she hurt him more deeply than anyone. That she is the only thing important to him.

"How am I alive?'

Thought she asked for anything, these are not the words she wanted to hear. She visibly crumbles, and swallows. She's trying not to cry.

"My guards saw him. I was on my way back. They saw him take you up here, and shut the door. One of them…saw him…and …I'm just so sorry. I never meant to leave you. I never meant for any of this.."

Her head is down and her shoulders are shaking. Even at her lowest point, he has never seen her like this.

He knows why.

He spent the cruelest of nights in the same pain.

He pulls her closer, ignoring the flash of discomfort. He pulls her flush against him, trying to stop her shaking shoulders. She buries her face against him, unable to look at him.

He smooth's her hair, and holds her as tight as he can manage.

"You made me promise forever."

She lets out a sob against him.

"I'm…"

He cuts her off. "You owe me forever. Starting right now."

He pulls her upright, and her eyes are wild and raw. He pushes tear soaked hair out of her eyes. Her cheeks are wet. She looks just as broken as he has felt. She opens her mouth to say something, but instead closes it, unable to speak.

He strokes her cheek, and very gently brushes her nose with his. The feeling is overwhelming.

"Promise?" His words are quiet; it's almost impossible for him to speak. If he loses her again, that will be it. He cannot handle this again. She stills against him.

"I promise you. I promise you forever, Jon Snow."

His lips brush against hers softly.

He hadn't meant to kiss her. The moment is to raw, but it feels like a sign of their promise.

She sighs, and together they lie back onto the soft sheets.

He is tired. So very very tired. She is, too. He can feel her breathing slowing down, and he allows himself the luxury of listening for a few more moments.

He closes his eyes. His is reluctant to sleep; for in sleep, he is away from her.

But sleeps pulls at him, and he gives in. When he wakes up, he will make sure forever happens.

In the distance, he can hear the dragon roar.

* * *

Thank you for reading:)


	9. Chapter 9

Agh this one was rough to me. Thanks for reading. We will soon resume our happily ever after ;)

* * *

It takes a few days for his head to stop hurting, and it takes a few weeks for him to be able to look her in the eyes. He can tell she is surprised at his reaction to her, but even he is surprised by just how angry he still feels. He should be happy to have her back. He should be happy to fall asleep next to her, to listen to her dream at night. Instead he is filled with uneasiness and finds himself sleeping less than when she was gone.

She's apologetic. Very apologetic. She explains, as best she can, why she left. But her reasoning comes across shallow to him. He's only mildly surprised that she sought out Sam, and he's less surprised that Sam wouldn't offer up his whereabouts. He listens, disinterested, as she describes the Queen turning over her palace after the dragon landed in her courtyard. She sent the Queen's men to search for Jon, unaware that he was a city away. Her stories only make him irritated. Loyalty is so deeply ingrained in him, that he has a hard time wrapping his brain around this.

As the days go on, he watches her shy away from him. When she thinks he's not looking, she gazes at him with lovelorn eyes and clings to him when she thinks he's asleep.

She still means everything, yet at this moment, he cannot bear to be too close to her.

* * *

Someone comes to check on his injuries. His ribs only hurt off and on now, only one part has a bloody wound, and the rest of him is bruised, but better.

"What happened to him?" He asks, watching as a dressing is reapplied to his side.

"To whom?" The maester, a well known silver haired man, tightens the dressing.

"The man who attacked me."

"Don't move." He pulls it tighter, until Jon winces. He squints at the wrap, and then looks up at him. "From what I know, he got away. I was just called to make sure you lived through the night."

None of this makes him feel better. He doesn't ask any more questions, instead he grits his teeth and stays still for the rest of the visit.

* * *

"Are you planning on staying mad for a long time?"

She asks him over a great feast. The table is dressed to its fullest, and several merry kings and queens have joined them to celebrate Dany's new kingdom. He suspects they have come more out of fear than congratulations, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

She says it low enough for only him to hear. He shrugs, and continues to eat a fancy soup that someone put in front of him. She frowns, and huffs slightly. "I don't know what else you want from me."

Everything.

He says nothing. The King and Queen to his left have had a bit too much wine to drink and are gleefully clinking their glasses with a King and his steward. King Royce sits at the end of the table, watching him carefully.

"You are being ridiculous." She finally hisses as him, weeks of frustration pent up. When he looks up at her, he can tell she is close to breaking down. He reaches over, and takes her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Later." He says.

She doesn't respond, but she doesn't let go of his hand for the rest of the dinner.

* * *

He manages to catch King Royce before he leaves for the night. The king is glad to see him, and hugs him tightly.

"We miss you, my boy. It's been too long."

Jon smiles, feeling the oddest bit of nostalgia for King Royce's castle. "I know. I didn't mean to just…leave."

King Royce nods. "It happens." He glances around, and lowers his voice. "Things seem a bit, uh tense around here?"

The young King's words are a relief to him. He nods. He leans in and finally asks. "I need your help."

King Royce nods immediately, and Jon is grateful for the young King's friendship.

When they finally part ways, he feels the lightest he has felt in months.

When he tells her he is leaving she does not take it well.

"This is what I deserve, right? I left you, and now you will leave me." Her voice is low and panicked. She paces around their bedroom, her energy frantic. "I never meant to hurt you." Her hands grip the blankets, an unconscious act. Her eyes plead with him to stay.

He stands still before her, his heart aching. "This has nothing to do with who deserves what." He finds himself feeling all too warm. The air in the room is so heavy and oppressive that he fears it will suffocate him. "I will be back."

"I don't understand why you are leaving." She whispers.

He doesn't have an answer for this, so instead he steps closer to her, and reaches for her. She willingly goes to him, resting her head against his chest.

"Everything is falling apart." Her words are quiet and dark.

He threads his fingers in her hair. It's longer than it's ever been, but more disheveled than when he found her the first time. His stomach tightens as he thinks back to her, chained to a stake, up for slaughter.

"Perhaps it's just falling into place, and we just don't see it."

He lingers as he kisses her forehead.

"I will be back."

He holds her while her shoulders shake, but neither of them speak another word.

* * *

It feels good to be back in black. It feels even better to see Sam come rushing towards him.

"You're back. I didn't think you would be!" His face is elated. He hugs Jon tightly, slapping him a few times on the back. "I didn't tell her. I mean, I didn't know exactly where you went, but I didn't even tell her I knew you had left." His voice is sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Jon."

The thought of her still hurts his stomach, but he smiles, and adjusts his cloak. "I'm just back for a visit. There's something I have to take care of."

He can tell Sam is disappointed, but he recovers quickly.

"Glad to have you back, my brother. Even if just for a visit."

More familiar faces start to appear, each greeting Jon and welcoming him back to the King's Guard. King Royce has shared the news of his return. The guards are hospitable, though some are confused as to his reappearance. Most say a friendly hello, and a few keep their distance. Some scowl, but he pays no attention to them. He focuses on the weight of his sword, and the entire reason he has returned. Sam motions for him to follow, and together they head off towards the hall.

He eats lunch in the dining hall with King Royce, Sam, several guardsmen, and Casen and Mathers. They seem surprised to see him, and he is surprised they have pledged loyalty to King Royce. He doesn't focus on it for very long, for King Royce begins talking, and he finds himself lost in the afternoon.

When they break after lunch, King Royce motions for him to stay behind. He sits back down at the table, and waits for the King to return. He takes in the grand dining room, and lets the feeling of its familiarity surround him. It is not until he catches a glimpse of the banner of King Ruther's house does it jar his nerves. He misses her. He allows himself admit it for a moment, and then he pushes it aside.

"My boy, now tell me. What the hell is going on since you rode off on one of my finest horses?" King Royce gracefully flings himself back into his chair, a smile on his face. "I've missed you round here. I don't think any of my guards listen to me quiet as well as you did."'

Jon feels his mouth turn upward, and then he shrugs apologetically. "I really should apologize for taking the horse, your grace." The King nods, accepting his words.

"I also should confess that I knew she left with the dragon. I sent for her to come see it. It was not my place to. I know that it is hers, but I should have left this to you."

King Royce takes a sip of his wine, but does not seem bothered by the news. "There are rumors she has more."

Jon shakes his head. "I've only seen the one. She has mentioned others, but as far as I know, this is the only one that remains alive."

"Where does she keep it?"

"It stays in one of the yards. It is only restrained for parts of the day, with guards who do not seem to fear it. She allows it to hunt freely, and it always returns to her. "

"Has it attacked anyone? Tried to escape?"

"No, your grace. It has never come back with anything greater than a large dog." He pauses. "It listens to her. It behaves as though a well-trained animal would."

He watches King Royce take this information in.

"And you disagree with her rule of this dragon? Or her captivity of it?"

Jon can feel the weight creep back into his shoulders.

"No…I…it's fine. It's obviously attached to her."

"Then what do you need my help with? She is the reason you rode off my horse, is she not?"

For a moment, Jon hesitates.

"It's more complicated than that. When I rescued her, I had no intention of anything more than saving her life and returning her to whatever King she had been taken from. Instead, I found myself dreaming of a life with her. And then she left. She broke her promise to me. And when I finally found her again, I had a man try to kill me. I awoke with this sense of resentment that I cannot get rid of."

King Royce nods. "You did seem a bit angry at the dinner."

Jon sighs.

"I'm angry at her, and I don't know why I' m so angry. I know that she is sorry, I just don't know how to rise above it." He pauses, and frowns.

"The worst part of it all, is that I want revenge on the man that thought I was nothing more than a poor bastard. Not even worthy enough to explain to him that I don't want to be a king. All I want is to be content with my life. I was happy before all of this, and I'd like to be happy again.

King Royce raises his glass to Jon and smiles.

"This is why I stay single, my boy."

It is a few hours later before King Royce offers up his own confession. "I was married, before I became King." This news is a revelation to Jon. The King has always seemed cheerfully, happily solitary. "We grew up attending the same events together, and were married the day after she turned sixteen. I was next in line for the crown, and she was the daughter of a wealthy neighboring king. Despite it being arranged for political reasons, I was madly in love with her. We were married for a few months before I found her in bed with my stable boy. Turns out she liked him a hell of a lot better than me. She left that night with him. When she returned a few months later, unable to handle the life of a stable hand's wife; I found myself unable to forgive her. I ordered her away, incapable of pardoning her. Days later she was found unconscious in a neighboring town. My biggest regret was that I could not grant her forgiveness."

He pauses, and takes a large gulp of wine.

"Since then, I have hardened myself to this life. I swore loyalty to my kingdom, my family, and myself. I have allowed no one to become close to me. Does it keep me from feeling that devastation again? Yes. Does it keep me warm at night? No."

Jon is quiet. "I'm sorry, your…"

The King interrupts him. "Do not be sorry. She allowed me to experience love, and she also taught me valuable lesson about myself. I held onto it for years. It is only now, that I can let go. Don't be the same way, Jon Snow. Allow yourself all the revenge you want, but remember what will make you happy."

The King smiles at him, his eyes crinkling the same way Rob's did. "Besides, you would make an excellent neighboring King. Bastard, or no bastard."

Despite the somber mood, Jon smiles.

"Thank you."

King Royce grins, before motioning a servant over with a tray of desserts.

"I will help you with the revenge part. If that is what you wish. I'm all for revenge. But you must promise me that when we return, you will allow yourself to forgive her. If she walks away from you, then that is on her. But give yourself that. I foresee if going very well for you."

Hope is a new feeling to Jon.

* * *

He slips out a few nights later.

He has King Royce and Sam with him, both dressed down in plain clothes. King Royce is utterly delighted at the thought of going incognito. Jon is utterly horrified at the thought of the King accompanying him without any sort of guard other than him and Sam. They make their way to the stables, and mount a horse, and set off.

He will have his revenge, and then he will return to Dany.

The stars glitter as they ride along. Tonight he does not question if she looks up at the stars and thinks of him for he knows she does.

* * *

They spend a few days at the boarding house where he spent his days dreaming of her. The old man bows, and graciously gives them the largest room and tells them to stay as long as they need. The King stays behind, listening to the old man's stories, while Jon and Sam scour the town in hopes of finding out information on the guard. After a few of the right questions, they have a name.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam asks him, looking nervously at the local tavern. As luck would have it, the former guard now resides in the small town, and has been seen frequenting the same spot nightly. He's unpopular amongst the town folks. The only know that he no longer serves the new Queen, and has a rather unpleasant disposition.

"I've never been more sure in my life." He rests his hand on longclaw, the feel of it comforting. His nerves burn with anticipation.

They watch as the man storms out of the inn, his face set in a scowl.

The scowl only deepens when he finds Jon in front of him.


End file.
